


Sunshine and Moonlight

by Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Love, M/M, Married Couple, Nicknames, Pet Names, Retired Couple, Serenading, Singing, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage/pseuds/Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage
Summary: There was nothing like this in the entire world, Greg was sure of it. Curled up on the couch in the living room, the fire crackling bright and hot and illuminating the room in its golden glow. A book rested in his lap, open to about halfway through its pages, though it no longer held the Inspector’s attention.No, his eyes were lingering on his husband sat in the armchair close to the window.





	1. Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> So, I found myself in a serious fluff mood. This is the result! I hope you enjoy the read, the second part will be out either tonight or tomorrow.

There was nothing like this in the entire world, Greg was sure of it. Curled up on the couch in the living room, the fire crackling bright and hot and illuminating the room in its golden glow. A book rested in his lap, open to about halfway through its pages, though it no longer held the Inspector’s attention. 

No, his eyes were lingering on his husband sat in the armchair close to the window. 

Though the world outside their cosy home was dark, Mycroft glowed in the firelight. His auburn hair, starting to show threads of silver as thin as spidersilk across the expanse of his temples, shimmered with the lovely hues of amber and bronze. His pale, freckled skin was basked in warmth, enough that he had foregone his usual cashmere jumper in favour of a short sleeved shirt made from cotton. 

This man was the embodiment of sunshine and Greg Lestrade fell more in love with every breath. 

Misty grey eyes peered up at him and twinkled in amusement, crows feet hiding in the corners as a smile slowly appeared. A perfect brow arched expectantly, making a mockery of the very same look he had given so many times during his youth, and he gave an inquisitive sound. 

“Gregory, did your mother never teach you to not stare?” His smile widened a touch, his voice quivering with withheld laughter. “How awfully impertinent, what have you to say for yourself?”

“Yes sir,” Greg whistled lowly, shifting his book to the arm of the chair and then moving to stand. He uttered a groan as his knees complained at the change, his back twinging as though to join in as he reached for the cane resting against the seat beside him. “Mama Lestrade taught us our manners, the lot of us. But I just can’t help it, love. You’ve got me bewitched.”

Mycroft placed his own book to the side of him and tilted his head a fraction, watching Gregory slowly amble over. Seeing that easygoing smile, that familiar sparkle in his gaze, it set his heart aflutter just as it had for twenty years. His chest blossomed with an impossible warmth, one that never failed to leave him utterly helpless in its wake, and he pushed himself up onto his feet slowly when Gregory came within arms reach. 

It was only now that they were closer he could hear the softest humming, one that his muted hearing no longer would have been able to pick up on if not for their proximity. Once more did his eyes crinkle in delight as he wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s neck, fingers tangling in with the thick silver locks he had always adored. 

“Is this?” He questioned, his shoulders bouncing ever so slightly with silent laughter while his nose found its way to Greg’s temple. 

Greg let his arms snake around Mycroft’s trim waist, guiding them both to sway from side to side as he hummed. His voice was weaker than it had been, more of a warble than a rumble, and it crackled with the higher notes. But he smiled throughout, nuzzling his face into the crook of Mycroft’s neck and brushed his nose against his jawline. 

“I’m surprised you recognised it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the small spot below his love’s ear. “It’s been a long time.”

“Of course I would remember the song you sang on our wedding day,” Mycroft sighed, his eyes fluttering closed with content. “ _ Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy-. _ ”

“ _ Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry. _ ” 

Greg may as well have been standing there on that incredible day, standing there in his suit and a beaming smile on his face. A shy, joyful Mycroft in his arms, hushed lyrics being cooed into his ear as they swayed under the gazebo together. The glimmer of fairy lights around them, only a handful of people to witness them dancing their first dance; the first of hundreds to come. Around their fingers the same bands of silver, the engraving on the inside leaving an imprint that no other shall see. _Ad_ _Infinitum._ A whisper of forevermore upon their skin and soul.

“You’re so gorgeous, do you know that?” After what felt like hours Greg raised his head and a hand, running his fingertips along his husband’s cheeks before resting his palm there. “After all these years, you’ve only gotten more stunning.”

“ _ Gregory _ ,” Mycroft whispered, pushing his head into the warmth of his hand before twisting to press his lips against his palm. “You foolish man, an utter rogue.” 

“You’re my sunshine, Myc.” There was a small pause, the shorter man reaching up to brush his lips against his partner’s smile. “My light, my sun, my warmth. I could go on forever."

“Impossible man,” came the teasing reply, tone so full of open affection that one never would have believed it had once struck fear into the hearts of man and nation alike. “It is late, you are tired and sentimental.” 

“And what does that make you?” Greg smirked, noticing the shimmer of unshed tears beginning to well up in his love’s eyes. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose, butting their foreheads together ever so gently. “Oh wondrous husband of fools?” 

“A sentimental old fool,” Mycroft confessed good-naturedly, chuckling as his husband tenderly brushed beneath his chin with a finger. “One who wants nothing more than to remain here for the rest of his days, in the arms of the man he loves.” 

“Your wish, as ever, is my command.” Greg replied, his voice quiet as the fire began to die out beside them. Despite the ever fleeting light of crimson and gold, the now retired Inspector knew the darkness would be kept at bay. How could it not, with his ray of sunshine by his side? 


	2. In Love With The Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he was the sunshine, Mycroft thought, Gregory was the moonlight. He was always so serene, graceful and becoming more staggeringly beautiful with every passing night. They complimented each other, so strikingly different and yet still so bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind responses to this little whimsical story. The feedback and positivity has been outstanding <3 
> 
> Until next time, lovelies!

Gregory Lestrade was a regal creature, an enigma of a being in a sea of  _ ordinary _ . Mycroft had always believed so, from behind the cameras and police tape of oh so many horrendous crime scenes. His striking silver mane flickering about, captured by wisps of the wind. Those enrapturing eyes of dark chocolate, smouldering and intense from over his younger brother’s shoulder. 

Oh, how familiar the memory was. That beloved day, the pair of them standing a thousand miles apart and yet only separated by a flimsy line of tape and a singular man in a blue scarf and long coat. The feeling of longing creating a cavity within Mycroft’s chest, as large as a chasm with no hope of ever being crossed. He would come to know the feeling of love, how it can both complete and devastate someone utterly and leave him floating in a sea of euphoric sentiment. 

How could he have possibly known?

Looking across the few yards of grassy field, Mycroft could see the familiar mane of silver hair and that intense gaze as it peered over the distant rolling hills. Gregory’s eyes had never aged, even when the crows feet had snuck into the corners. They had never lost that gentle, powerful sparkle which had bewitched the iceman long ago. 

He seemed totally at ease, as though he could take off running through the sunbeams and trees that lined their morning walk despite the cane clutched tight in his hand. They had moved here ten years ago, leaving behind the busy nature of London in favour for a little cottage tucked away in a hidden spot of country that had remained mostly untouched. This was their haven, their kingdom, and they the ever joyous kings. 

If he was the sunshine, Mycroft thought, Gregory was the moonlight. He was always so serene, graceful and becoming more staggeringly beautiful with every passing night. They complimented each other, so strikingly different and yet still so bright.

“Myc?” His husband called, having turned to reach for him expectantly with his free hand. There was a gentle smile on his face, almost shy as he wiggled his fingers in the open air.

“Ah, forgive me.” A few long strides brought him to his love’s side, their fingers bumping together before intertwining as easily as they always had. Mycroft gave a little squeeze, leaning to brush his lips against Greg’s cheek. “I was… merely distracted by a handsome man.” 

Greg’s smile was infectious as he looked up into Mycroft’s misty eyes. A look could say a thousand words, and all Mycroft could see on the man’s face was love and adoration. 

“Oh? Was he devilishly charming? Young, a glorious example of masculinity?” He asked, voice bubbling with barely held back laughter. “Should I find this gentleman for you? Then decide whether to shake him by the hand or fight him for you?” 

“Ridiculous man!” Mycroft laughed, gently tugging him down the grassy pathway and gazing out at the view beyond. This man, this brilliant, wonderful, ridiculous man. “Devilishly charming? Most certainly. Young?” Playfully he raised a brow, rolling his eyes as Greg gave him an ever so slight pout. “Well, I suppose he could fit in with his niece Rosamund… that is, if she isn’t doing anything too rough for her dear old Uncle Greg.” 

“Cheeky bugger!” Greg’s grin only widened, pout falling away as he gently swung their arms between them. “I should put you over my knee, you cheeky blighter. You’re not too old-.” 

They fell silent for a few seconds as they walked, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet the only sound until they burst into a fit of laughter together so powerful it brought tears to their eyes. The very idea! 

“In, Christ stop it, in all seriousness love, you seemed distracted. Everything okay?” The silver-haired man managed once the worst of their amusement had passed, looking upon his husband with a hint of worry. “Has something happened?”

Mycroft continued to walk, pulling Greg along to a fork in the pathway and then stopping. Before them was a large, rather glorious oak tree, its leaves a multitude of hues from brown to scarlet to amber. With every gust of wind, a small downpour of leaves fell around them. They landed everywhere, in their hooded jackets, in their hair like a crown from the faes, a bright and warm patch in an ocean of green grass and blue skies.

Still, he didn’t speak. Instead he chose to pull his love into his arms, his lips descending onto Greg’s nose, along his cheekbones, lingering against his forehead. As Greg’s eyes fell closed he pressed a fleeting kiss to his eyelids, tender and loving, before he finally brushed against his lips over and over. 

“I love you,” Mycroft whispered, smiling as he pulled back to catch pink in his partner’s cheeks. “That is all… how could I think of anything else? You consume my mind, heart and soul, Gregory. Ad infinitum.” 

Greg raised their joined hands, kissing Mycroft’s silver wedding band and smiling at the reminder of the words there. For forevermore. Their love would be forevermore. 

“Love you too, sunshine.” He whispered back, choking with the tears that threatened to rise. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he joked as he wiped an eye, “makin’ a mess of me…” 

As Greg ducked his head, seemingly shy as to this sudden wave of emotion, Mycroft clasped his cheeks between his hands and gently encouraged him to look into his eyes. There was a pause, nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling around them and their own breathing. Then, Mycroft’s lips pressed to his husband’s once more, wiping his tears away as they trailed down his cheeks. 

“You are truly beautiful, Gregory… Just as the moonlight.”

Greg laughed softly, looking at this wonderful man whom he’d somehow managed to get to love him. With eyes shimmering with more tears, he tilted his head into the hand on his right cheek.

“Well… you know, the moon can’t glow without its sunshine.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Their song, Sunshine On My Shoulder by John Denver; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=diwuu_r6GJE


End file.
